


Broken Wings

by mintables



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Past Abuse, consider this a long rambly gustav hc, ft. zach bc it sounds prettier than bruno and i lov them, fuck you king gustav, i just wanted some introspection, i just.... want them to heal, i love alfonse a lot and just want him to talk about his feelings, re: whatever shit gustav did to alfonse growing up cause who knows what it was, this doesnt really have a plot but thats ok, wow this is reading like a ffn.net fic from 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 23:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13512285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintables/pseuds/mintables
Summary: Alfonse’s hands still shake, more often than they should.





	Broken Wings

**Author's Note:**

> oh this is an un-proofread mess and im apologizing in advance cause it's short and shitty  
> this is just like.... a really long ramble where i dump every last hc i have abt fuckin GUSTAV here cause after that last feh chapter i wanna fight the man with my bare hands!!! forgive me for what a mess this is i could expand on it but like.... there's school tomorrow

Alfonse’s hands still shake, more often than they should.

 

He still keeps his gaze low, palms up when others are present; he still cannot allow the slightest mistake. A slip-up is as good as suicide. A slip-up is a disgrace to the kingdom, the royal family, the people of Askr… his mistakes mean hell, mean harsh words and a cold gaze and bottled-up tears where his father can never see them.

Gustav is dead. Alfonse watched Surtr kill him.

So why does he still hurt so much, why is he so on edge, why can nothing he does ever be good enough? Why does he still cut portions at dinner, skip meals- because eating any more is _gluttonous,_ is _not how a prince should behave?_ Why is there still the voice in the back of his mind, beating a steady rhythm like his father’s back, forever turned away from him, never meeting his gaze?

Why does he still feel so _trapped?_

Sharena had dealt with their father’s ire, too, gods knew she had, but she never had the brunt of it like he. She was the younger child; she would never have the throne, so Gustav hadn’t cared much what she did. Her childhood had been largely filled with their mother’s warmth and kindness, her open and trusting nature imparting on her daughter the same.

He wished that it had been the same for him.

Yet he was the crown prince of Askr. The heir. A lifetime that may even have been happy, a lifetime with a parent who loved him, signed away with the mere misfortune of having been born first. At the very least, he is grateful it was him, not Sharena- he would never want his sister to end up the way he is now.

He had known from a very young age just how unfair the world really was.

He has stopped being able to look in the mirror, too afraid of what he may see there. He is too afraid that when he does, he’ll see his father looking back at him. He’s too afraid of turning into what he fears most, yet whose attention he’d craved most, and- gods, there must be something terribly wrong with him, to still wish for validation from his father after the man had abandoned him.

Yet he had mourned Gustav all the same, and perhaps he hates himself the most for how much his death affected him. Perhaps he was not affected _enough._

Sharena knows all too well that no matter how much he may try to hide, she is far more of a rock to him than he to her. She had stayed beside him through their father’s fury, and even though he had held her while she sobbed- because _tears are undignified, Alfonse, that’s not how a prince ought to behave_ \- she had been the only one who managed to keep him from falling apart all those years.

Her- and Zacharias.

The war is over now. Gustav is dead and Zacharias is home with him and they should be safe; he should be happy. And yet, no matter how guilty he feels for it, no matter how much he wishes it were different, he cannot be.

Gustav’s cold eyes are an ever-present reminder in the back of his mind.

Even lying in bed with Zacharias, as they are now, he cannot allow himself total relaxation. _Don’t be_ lazy, _Alfonse, that’s now how a prince ought to behave._

“You still think about your father, don’t you?”

Zacharias’s voice is soft, far gentler than Alfonse deserves. He stiffens, steeling himself before he can force himself to relax. _That’s not how a prince ought to behave._

“I… I don’t know what you mean.” His voice shakes, and he knows it’s unavoidable now. The conversation that has been building every time Zacharias sees how stiff Alfonse gets at times, how he reprimands himself and holds back from things he might enjoy and doesn’t let himself show the emotion he knows is beneath the surface.

“I think you do,” Zacharias murmurs, and Alfonse sighs before reaching out and taking one of his hands. He hadn’t wanted himself to seem… _weak-_ a disgrace to the family, to the kingdom, _how can you lead your people like this_ \- but he needs the support more than anything.

“You’re… you’re right,” he murmurs, unable to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Zacharias is quick to reassure him, tugging him into his arms. Alfonse can’t help how he melts into the embrace, can’t help the muffled sob that escapes him. “Just, please… talk to me?”

Alfonse can’t manage to make himself speak, at first, his father’s voice too present in the back of his mind, keeping his thoughts prisoner, keeping him quiet and proper and-

“The perfect heir,” he whispers. The words are bitter on his tongue. _His father’s words._ “That’s what he wanted me to be. Nothing I did- nothing was ever good enough, nothing was… enough like how a prince should behave, no matter what I did, and he just…”

He shudders, the sting of Gustav’s words more present in his mind than any sting his hands had brought about. “But I _wanted_ him to think I was good enough. I wanted him to _like_ me. Gods, it’s wrong- he was my own father, and I was chasing love I don’t think he was ever going to give me. But- he was my _father.”_

He lets out a watery laugh, trying not to think about what Gustav would say to a display of weakness like this. He’s so sick of crying because of his father. He just wants to be _happy_. He’s not sure he’s ever learned how.

“It still hurts, Zach. I know it’s foolish- and gods, it pales in comparison to the way your father was, I’m sorry, I just-”

Zacharias shushes him softly. “Alfonse, please, don’t invalidate your own suffering. Just because my father wanted me dead didn’t mean yours was any less cruel in his own right. It just means I _understand_. None of the way he treated you was ever your fault.”

“But, I-” Alfonse isn’t sure what he’s even trying to say anymore. There’s a lifetime of hurt welling up inside him, trying to spill out all at once, and he aches from- from how _much_ it is. There are too many thoughts, too many _emotions_ to explain to Zacharias in any coherent manner how conflicted he is, how much Gustav haunts him and yet how much he wishes his father, even once, could have smiled at him. “Forgive me. It’s just- he just- I know it was _wrong_ , I know it wasn’t my fault and I could never have pleased him, but he… I wish things were different. I suppose I’m mourning a father I never even had, but-”

He scrubs angrily at the tears in his eyes, hating how _weak_ he feels. “None of this makes sense. I don’t suppose it ever will.” He does his best to laugh shakily, despite the ache in his heart. “Whenever I do anything, I can just hear him reprimanding me- and it’s foolish. It’s so, so _foolish_ , and I-”

“It’s not, I promise you. Don’t blame yourself for how you feel, Alfonse. You deserve to be able to be free of this, to have never had a father such as him to mourn in the first place. I wish I could take that man out of your mind forever, but…” Zacharias sighs and brings Alfonse’s hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss across the knuckles. His breathing slows, twisting panic and a confused babble of thoughts slowly subsiding with the tenderness of the action. “I know I cannot, any more than I can forget my own father, or the things I almost did during the war. The things I almost did to you, to Sharena…” He trails off and shakes his head.

“But that is something I cannot change, any more than you can change your childhood, or your father himself. The only thing we can do is try to heal and move forward.” Zacharias sighs and presses another kiss to Alfonse’s hand, and then to his forehead. His eyes are warm, full of the emotion Alfonse knew he’d kept held back for so long he’d nearly forgotten what it felt like. “The only thing you can do now that your father is gone is _live_. Live with me, with Sharena, with Kiran, with Fjorm and Gunnthrá- and we can do what we can to heal the pain of the past.”

Alfonse offers him a shaky smile. “I’m not sure I know how,” he breathes. “I- I don’t know if I know what happiness is supposed to feel like. But I…” he trails off, collecting himself for a moment. He just wants things to get _better_ , again. He just wants all this to end, to be washed away until his father’s cold glare is nothing more than a memory.

“I can try.”

Zacharias’s responding smile is radiant, and Alfonse thinks all they have sacrificed, all they have lost has been worth it to have this moment now- broken, yes, but not shattered. Not whole yet, but together… he thinks they can be.

“That’s the only thing we can do.”

Alfonse lets himself smile in earnest, feeling warmer than he has in far too long. Gustav’s presence still presses on the back of his conscience- a part of him is uncomfortably convinced it always will- but when Zacharias pulls him into his chest like this and the press of his hands are an endless distraction from his own mind, his father’s influence can be left an afterthought. His hands- so gentle in their movements, so different from Gustav’s harsh grip the rare times he would lay hands on him (Alfonse didn’t think his father had ever embraced him; his mother and Sharena were his only sources of genuine human contact growing up)- are his anchors, soothing aches that don’t exist on his body.

He hums and twists further into Zacharias’s embrace, pressing a kiss to his chest softly. “I don’t know how you stay strong through all this,” he murmurs. Zacharias laughs, a warm chuckle- a sound Alfonse has missed all too much.

“You know I don’t. How many nights have I been wracked with nightmares, again? And how many haven’t I slept for fear of them? But… the thought of you was the only thing that kept me holding on for years. Having you here with me gives me the strength I need now to begin to move on.” He takes Alfonse’s hand again; threads their fingers together. “I only hope I can be the same for you.”

Alfonse squeezes his hand tight, and with the touch finds peace of mind. It’s just a start, he knows, and there’s a long way to go, but… he’s not as afraid, anymore, of the memories of his father. Not now. “Of course you can be,” he smiles, feeling… not quite like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, not yet, but lighter nevertheless. The weight is shared, now. The look in Zacharias’s eyes tells him he’s never going to have to face things alone again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Zacharias’s voice is warm; it sounds like home, a prayer, a _promise_. “Neither of us are in this alone, yeah?”

Alfonse grins and leans in. “Yeah.”

Zacharias kisses him, then, gentle and soft and oh-so-sweet, and it’s so _good_ , and for once Alfonse feels like he genuinely deserves it. Like, for once, his father was wrong; like he _is_ worthy of love, or at least might be someday. More than that, he finally feels safe, warm, loved- the feeling blooming in his chest can only be what genuine happiness feels like, he realizes, and chases the press of Zacharias’s lips again after they break apart for air. They may both be haunted by dead fathers and sorrows long behind them, but for once, Alfonse thinks it may be okay.

 

Alfonse finds his hands still shake, sometimes, but they’re steady clasped between Zacharias’s own.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're here for the good ol alfonse content hmu on twitter where i literally do not shut up about him ever @ylissebian uwu


End file.
